


Rainbow Falls

by pr_squared



Category: No Fandom
Genre: F/M, Femdom, Pony Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:52:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21964528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pr_squared/pseuds/pr_squared
Summary: Catherine Langston rides up to Rainbow Falls
Comments: 5
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Good weather had been so very rare that spring. A beautiful weekend was promised and Ms. Catherine Langston looked forward to her ride with vast enthusiasm. 

She awoke early on Saturday and got a quick start. Traffic was light, unlike the bad old days with twice as many cars on the road and she made excellent time. She parked her car in the designated area at High Gate stables and dashed to the locker room, where she traded her comfortable travel garb and worn cross trainers for her stylish riding attire and shiny boots. She strapped on her roweled spurs. Only the most accomplished equestriennes were allowed spurs. Once she had won the privilege, she felt almost naked without them.

On her way to the stables, she stopped briefly at the coffee shop. She filled her thermos with an iced latte and tucked it into her backpack. Almost as an afterthought, she grabbed a shiny red apple from the large bowl lying on a table next to the door. She had wanted to bring her Charley Horse a treat and almost forgot. Sugar cubes were so bad for a Pony’s teeth. Just to be prepared, she stuffed a second apple in the backpack.

She set off across the yard. The apple was just so tempting. She allowed herself just one bite at first and then treated herself to a couple more as she crossed the yard. She wasn’t disappointed. The fruit was fragrant and crunchy. Its sweet juice flowed over her tongue and into her mouth. She took another bite and another. She just couldn’t help herself.

Madison, one of the exercise girls greeted her in the yard. “Hi, Ms. Langston. You’re taking Charley Horse up to Rainbow Falls today?”

Catherine nodded, yes, and smiled in anticipation. Rainbow Falls was a very special place. She felt a vast desire for its beauty and solitude.

“Well, he’s saddled and ready. Have a great ride, but there’re rumors of ferals up there. Are you sure you want to go alone?” Not all women were prepared to consign their sons at eighteen. Some chose to turn them loose in the wild. many perished from cold or hunger but some survived. 

“I’ll be safe,” she reassured the girl. Once fear had restrained women with invisible chains – fear of male size and brute strength. You couldn’t go here or you couldn’t go there. You could not be alone outside after dark. Male alacrity for violence ran unchecked. Those days were safely in the past.

Exactly as promised, Charley Horse stood saddled and bridled. He was no ordinary male. At 2.1 meters tall, he stood a full 50 cm taller than Catherine. His weight was almost three times hers. He was unclothed, of course, except for his tack. His ample male paraphernalia were on open display but no one thinks of an animal as being naked. One upon a time, a male might intimidate a dozen women simply by threatening to expose his boy parts but that time was safely in the past.  
. 

His grooming was painstaking. The hair on his head was shaped into a thick dark mane. The hair on his face was clipped to an even quarter inch. His profuse male body hair had been meticulously depilated. He had been circumcised. Despite the well-known male aversion to hygiene, Charley Horse smelled only of his leather gear and the proprietary ointment favored at High Gate Stable to protect Ponies from sunburn and insects. Grooming was important for more than appearance’ sake. Regular grooming accustomed even the most skittish pony to handling.

Catherine remembered the days before she could afford membership at the stables. She had volunteered as a groom in exchange for riding privileges and often attended to a male secured on the grooming stand. His ankles were secured to stays set in the floor, his nose ring to the sturdy upright, and his arms outstretched on the cross piece. Her friend Caitlin held his buttocks apart, while Catherine, flashlight in one hand and tweezers in the other, pursued the last stubborn hairs around his anus, all the time hoping that this male at least, had a settled stomach and civilized bathroom habits.

“Hey, Charley Horse,” Catherine called out in case Charley Horse hadn’t heard her approach. Passing quickly behind him, Catherine moved smartly. Her roweled spurs jingled when she walked. She knew the tendency of some ponies to kick when they had the chance, though not her Charley. She took the opportunity to drag her hand over his right buttock, just above her brand. 

He had screamed so when they had branded him. Everyone says that they don’t feel pain like children and women – testosterone poisoning. Catherine had been reluctant. Sally Jones, the chief trainer, explained that it was for his own good. Once branded, he would know he was truly owned and be happier in the long run. 

She ran her hand over the thick muscles of his back. She smiled at the thought of her easy mastery of the powerful animal. 

Tied at the slip rail, he waited impatiently, though he was quite accustomed to waiting Charley had heard her roweled spurs before he saw her. Their sharp points loomed large in Charlie Horse’s simple mind and he trembled at the pleasant sound of their musical jingle-jangle. He recognized her scent and knew her voice. He pulled against the slip rail and eagerly pushed himself back against her gloved hand, trying to increase the physical contact. As always, he was glad to see his mistress, even giddy. His dull life had few other high points. He was eager to escape the narrow confines of his stall but few opportunities. The exercise girls ran him daily and groomed him every second day. When weather allowed, he wandered outside in the paddock with the other ponies for a few hours but he spent many long hours alone in his stall. He was hungry for any human contact and his mistress most of all. 

Methodically, they had reduced him to a beast of burden. Once, he had believed that his obedience was a conscious decision. He had no love of pain or the whip. Perhaps he might lull them into complacency, he thought, and ease his escape. However, they had persisted relentlessly and he had discovered that his body obeyed their commands even before his conscious mind had processed them. He had had no opportunity to escape. 

Once, he had brooded constantly about the time before he had come to the stable. Vivid fantasies of escape and revenge had once troubled his sleep. Over time, those troubling ruminations had faded. Increasingly, he had thought of the more unpleasant alternatives. Only rarely now did they taint his dreams.

Catherine patted his muscular rump fondly. Strong buttocks and legs were the foundation of a good pony. Charley Horse was among the best. His strong legs supported muscular buttocks and his broad back offered his riders a secure seat. His male size and strength were undeniably impressive. He was a spirited creature, and he was hers. Her brand marked him unmistakably as her property. Catherine’s pleasure in her unquestioned mastery always thrilled her.

Charley Horse brayed his excitement. The shank of his bit pressed down upon his tongue. His surgically modified larynx could not form words. He opened his mouth around his bit. Ponies are herd animals and Catherine had impressed herself thoroughly on her pony as the uncontested leader of his herd.

Trying to turn toward her, he pulled unsuccessfully at the sturdy slip rail. His attention focused on her fist. More often than not, she brought him some sort of treat. Salty or sweet, anything with flavor was a welcome relief from the bland monotony of the bland, nutritious stable diet. Often Catherine reached into her small pocket and retrieved a piece of dried fruit from her slit pocket. Eagerly, Charley Horse would open his mouth to receive it. He anticipated its tart sweetness. He sensed that the treat shared the warmth of Catherine’s body. The dirt and grit acquired in its passage through her tight pocket did not diminish his pleasure; rather he relished its nearness to her body. 

Catherine’s dark hair was braided in a tight ponytail for riding. A brilliant white silk blouse and black leather jodhpurs accented her olive complexion. Knee-high black leather boots enclosed her small feet and accented her shapely calves. From her belt, hung her worn leather crop. A bright smile illuminated her face. Catherine pulled on her thin leather riding gloves. She could feel a male’s beard through the thin black leather. 

She slipped Charley Horse’s reins from the rail. Grinning, she pressed her opened her empty hand over his open mouth. 

Eagerly, Charley Horse opened his mouth around his bit and nuzzled her hand hoping for a treat. His fat tongue tickled her palm through the fine thin leather. Charley Horse’s enthusiasm faded quickly when he found her hand was empty. A sad frown darkened his guileless face.

“Silly boy! I’ve brought you a treat,” Catherine said affectionately, then suddenly realized that not much of the apple remained uneaten. She popped the remnant of the three-quarters eaten apple into his gaping mouth, not much more than a core, careful to avoid dirtying her fingers and his sharp teeth. He took the core eagerly if awkwardly around his bit and chewed noisily. Charley Horse ate the core with enthusiasm. He seemed to enjoy it immensely – seeds and all.

Madison led Noblese Oblige from his stall. Suddenly, Charley tensed and stood tall. He shared the stable with a number of other ponies and he disliked each of them individually and despised them all collectively. His hatred was returned intensely. Intact males were known to be jealous, lazy, and prone to violence. Charley Horse did not want to share Catherine’s attention. 

She freed him from the slip and held his reins in one hand. She pulled his head down by his nose ring sharply with her other hand and planted a kiss on his forehead. “Charley Horse, you’re such a good boy!” Curiously the word “man” had passed out of common usage while the word “boy” had not. 

“Mount!” she commanded, and Charley Horse knelt smartly with his right knee on the ground, his left foot planted and his knee bent at right angles. 

Catherine stepped up on his brawny left thigh and swung her right leg over the saddle. She slipped her booted feet into the stirrups. “Up!” she ordered and dragged her roweled spurs over his flanks and let him feel just a touch of their sharp points. 

Despite their vast disparity in size and physical strength, Charley Horse respected her spurs and acknowledged her unquestioned authority.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ride on the beach

Chapter 2

Catherine loved to ride on the sandy beach below High Gate Stables in the first hazy hours of the morning. The fierce power of the summer sun was still gentled by the morning mist. The seaside sounds and smells admixed to form a perfect balm to the hustle and bustle of her busy life. Her tablet lay peacefully in her locker. Her cell phone lay turned off and quiet. Wave following wave, the waves rushed up onto the beach and receded smoothly into the ocean. Her Pony’s harness creaked rhythmically as his powerful thighs rose and fell. His callused feet pounded the hard sand with each distance-devouring stride. Raucous calls of sea birds accented the complex euphony. Catherine inhaled the tangy sea air, aroma of richly polished leather and the faint musk of her pony’s perspiration. Her phone’s incessant ringing and her endless schedule of urgent conferences and critical meetings slowly faded from her consciousness.

Her saddle perched solidly between his wide shoulder blades. The saddle’s light-weight aluminum frame transferred her weight downward to his pelvis and lowered their collective center of gravity. His neck was even thicker than either of her trim thighs that straddled his broad back. The toes of her soft, leather mid-calf boots rested in the hanging stirrups. For now, her heels rested lightly on his flanks. They moved as one.

One might well wonder how a woman might manage so large and strong a creature. At 160 cm, Catherine was not short, but the top of her head reached no higher than the Charley Horse’s vestigial male nipples. He outweighed her almost 3-fold. However, with her reins, crop and spurs, the trained male’s size and strength were firmly bound to the service of his female rider.

Charley ran. Catherine’s weight was little burden. The morning sun gently bathed his bare skin. The sea-fresh air filled his lungs and washed away the lingering fetid stable odors. In the stable, he was confined in his stall or in the paddock. He was usually hobbled and securely tethered. This morning he ran bound only to the will of his rider. His blinder restricted his field of vision but he savored the fresh ocean air and the touch of the warm morning sun on his bare skin. This was as near as he came to freedom. 

Freedom? He snorted at the notion. This was the new world order. He had learned in school that males like he - men - had once been masters of the world and had almost destroyed humanity. Now, males lived only to serve. He had been selected to serve as a pony. What might it be like to go where he wished and do as he wanted? He shrugged and quickly cleared his mind of these troubling thoughts. 

The rising sun shone brightly. The sky was a brilliant cloudless blue. Charley trotted at an easy pace and Catherine spoke to him of her week. She told of this and that. She unburdened herself of her roiling concerns and nagging frustrations and found welcome relief. She talked and he just listened. 

Her words meant little to him and her references less but he simply enjoyed the sound of her voice. Had his throat not been surgically altered, the shank on his bit pressed down on his tongue and prevented speech. She seemed troubled about something but all- in-all pleased with him. He inhaled her perfumed scent and listened. He ran and lost himself in the rhythm of his stride.

Catherine was grateful for the chance to unburden herself without any interruption. Charley listened so intently but never interrupted or offered any unwelcome offhand advice. She smiled at her conceit that he had any understanding at all.

Suddenly, Catherine felt a desire for speed. Charley Horse answered her spurs promptly and his iron shod hooves thundered down the hard-packed sand along the ocean’s edge. His strapping thighs rose and fell tirelessly like the indefatigable pistons of a smoothly running engine. His long, steady strides simply devoured distance. He responded to the touch of her crop with yet more speed. It was enough to take one’s breath away. The wind had blown her sun hat back and it hung around her neck precariously by its tie. Her thick ponytail streamed out behind her. She chuckled to think that Charley Horse’s strength and endurance had perhaps even surprised himself. The run was simply exhilarating. 

At the mouth of the small stream, Catherine “whoaed” Charley Horse and pulled gently on his reins. He slowed smoothly to a walk. His chest was heaving and perspiration poured from his great body but his efforts had not flagged until she had finally called him to a halt.

Catherine looked up the trail and saw the lower pool and behind it, the lower waterfall. She had seen it many times before and its beauty never failed to take her breath away. Her hand on his reins directed Charley Horse up the steep and narrow trail. 

Charley Horse turned. He was less taken with the beauty before him. His blinders restricted his vision. Rather, he carefully studied the sharply rising path that ran beside the stream up to the lower pool and then climbed more steeply up to the top of the lower falls. He examined the slippery ground, doubtfully. Given his druthers, he would not venture up the treacherous path to the pool above the waterfall. He hesitated. The choice was not his. He did not want to risk a fall.

The day was hot. The secluded pool was waiting. Somewhat impatiently, Catherine brought her spurs against his flanks gently at first and then again more sharply when he balked. 

She swore she heard him express his doubts in a snort, but he started slowly up the track. An experienced rider, Catherine let her mount pick his own way and set his own careful pace up the path beside the stream and then up the difficult path beside the falls. Downhill was likely to be even more treacherous. However, he was a sure-footed pony and he wanted a tumble no more than she. The lower waterfall soon roared before her and then beside her. Its spray wet the ground and made the track yet more slippery. Her weight was little burden for Charley Horse on the steep, narrow trail, even given the uncertain footing.

Once she reached the top, she knew once again why she had come. As beautiful as the lower falls had been, the upper falls were yet more beautiful and the crystal-clear pool deeper and more suitable for swimming. Not one other person could be seen. She saw no sign of any ferals.

“Dismount,” she ordered. As trained, Charley Horse knelt promptly, with his right knee on the ground, his left foot planted and his left knee bent at right angles. Eager to swim, Catherine slipped from his back and stepped onto his brawny thigh almost before he had braced himself for her weight. Impatient to swim, she pulled on his reins and half lead and half dragged her much larger pony after her to one of the hitching posts the stables had so conveniently constructed. 

The posts were a full 2 yards apart to keep a safe distance between the ponies. The ever-shifting feuds and desperate competition among the stable’s males were a constant source of trouble for the stable’s trainers, grooms, and exercise girls. Catherine’s friend Caitlin O’Connor had always said that intact male were lazy, impulsive, and prone to violence. She argued that a girl’s first pony should always be a gelding. Catherine first pony had been a black gelding, named Beauty. He had been a graduation present from her granny.

Doc Andrews first visit to the stables after graduation in the summer was always especially busy. Eager, chattering girls, dressed in their crisp, new equestrienne attire, stood in line with their newly purchased ponies. The stable’s always-hungry dogs ran about, yapping excitedly. Confronted with the gelding frame, many ponies balked, once they perceived its purpose. Many embarrassed new owners needed help from the obliging exercise girls to secure their supposedly broken and thoroughly trained ponies. The newly made geldings offered no resistance as they were led away. Their freshly taken testicles lay ignored on the grounds until some dog or other overcame his fear and darted in to seize his bleeding prize.

More experienced riders usually preferred an intact male. One might impress herself deeply on her spirited pony and construct a deep and durable bond. An impressed pony’s craving for his mistress’ attention was unquenchable, his need for her approval desperate. His feelings were often deeply ardent and quite poignant in a sentimental sort of way - a source of much humor. In the stables though, jealousy among intact males was rife and anxious rivalry sometimes erupted into actual physical aggression.

Catherine’s second pony had been a superannuated intact male named Prince Charming. She still had had her studio apartment then and his price was right. He had a great heart and served her well for three years before his joints failed and she had had to put him down.

Deftly, she secured Charley to a post, choosing the shadiest spot. His arms secured in his harness, he would be unable to free himself. In any event, his thumbs had been amputated and his four-fingered hands had no ability with knots or latches. This morning, no other pony was tied at railing. She took him to his knees and hobbled his ankles. Then she urged him to his feet.

Quickly, Catherine checked Charley Horse out and found everything in order. She thought to close his blinders but decided just to let him enjoy the sights. She placed her gloved hand on the sweat-slick skin of his back. He was hot to the touch. He gave off a tantalizing musky aroma. “You’ll be all right here, Charley” she said. Always eager for her touch, Charley Horse pressed himself backwards against her hand. Playfully, she slid her hand down along his spine to the top of the crease between his muscular buttocks.

“I’m going for a swim and I’ll be back.” Catherine said and then wondered why she had bothered to explain herself to an animal. Was she asking his permission? She slapped his firm buttock playfully.

Catherine looked for a dry place to put her clothes and undressed. She shucked off her backpack. She pulled off her thin leather riding gloves. Careful to avoid the sharp points of her roweled spurs, she wrestled off her boots. She unbuttoned her white blouse and peeled off her jodhpurs. She folded her blouse and jodhpurs and laid them carefully on top of her backpack. Then she stripped off her socks, bra, and panties and piled them on top, much more casually. She kept the sun hat that still hung around her neck.

Catherine stood stark naked except for her waterproof watch, the fine gold chain around her neck, and her battered sun hat. The rounded lines of her soft breasts accented the definite feminine sweep of her trim flanks and hips. A pouting navel decorated her toned tummy. A rectangular thatch of tightly curled patch of hair crowned the unseen folds of her hidden sex.

She looked quickly to her pony. Charley Horse stood at the railing, saddled and bridled. Otherwise, he was naked and inarguably male; his thick sex on blatant display. A metal ring pierced the glans of Charley Horse’s circumcised cock. Her outstretched fingers could barely contain his ripe scrotal sack. Once upon a time, Catherine had learned, a male might terrorize a score of adult women simply by threatening to expose his male paraphernalia, once the symbol of male supremacy. That time was safely in the past. 

Now a woman’s female parts are recognized as her glory while a male’s vulnerable paraphernalia are universally acknowledged as proof of his inferiority. No one might now doubt who commanded and who obeyed.

Charley Horse strained against his reins. He turned his head to look back at his mistress. His blinders limited his field of vision. Stark naked, her soft feminine curves contrasted with his harsh angularity. Thick plates of muscle hung from his large frame. Her skin was smooth and unblemished. The stable’s grooms worked diligently to depilate the exuberant body hair that betrayed Charley Horse’s kinship with the bestial. Trying to see more, he pulled vainly against his restraints.

Catherine scooped up a hatful of water in her battered sun hat and watered her pony. She took him to his knees and she stood, naked, inches away. 

Kneeling, Charley drank. He looked up. Catherine’s unblemished skin glowed with a hint of perspiration that transmuted her clean floral scent into something yet more alluring. He saw the pink nipples on her round breasts and the dark curly hair that crowned the secret place between her thighs. The cold water filled his thirsty mouth and poured down his neck, chest, and belly.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unexpected visitors

Chapter 3

Catherine checked her watch from habit. She had no impending meetings or deadlines today. She lowered herself into the crystal-clear water. She lay back and luxuriated into cool water and warm sun. She pulled her sun hat over her face and closed her eyes. She let her mind wander, totally at peace and serene.

A loud crash recalled her suddenly from her reverie. One female voice called out cheerfully. Another answered, more distant, and a second crash sounded, followed by a shower of spray before Catherine could locate the source of the noise. She pulled off the sun hat that shielded her face and saw two bobbing heads, one blond and one brunette, in the deep pool. Two twenty-something young women squealed and splashed, gleefully. Apparently, they had jumped from the Rainbow falls, fully thirty feet above. 

“Hey,” Catherine called, “watch who you’re splashing.” Her friendly tone removed any hint of scold from her words.

“Hey,” called the brunette, “Look, Sheridan, we’re not alone.”

“Where?” called out the blonde. “Where, Emma?”

“See, over there!” Sheridan pointed.

“Hey, over here,” Catherine waved and stood up. “How did you guys get here?” 

Emma and Sheridan swam over and stood in the shallows. They were as naked as Catherine. Once upon a time, a woman found unclothed might feel absolute dread and if not fear of violence, total shame. Today, no one felt either dread or indignity, only honest and complete surprise.

“Hi, I’m Emma Loughman. We were camping above the falls,” the brunette answered. 

“Isn’t this spot beautiful – simply brilliant,” said the blonde. “Oh, I’m Sheridan Mackenzie.” 

Catherine could only agree. “I’m Catherine, Catherine Langston. I rode up from High Gate Stables. It’s really splendid up here - or I guess, down here, depending how you look at it.” She remembered that they had leaped from the Rainbow Falls. Taken with their naïve enthusiasm and friendliness, she had already forgiven their uninvited invasion of her solitude and disruption of her serenity. The two girls reminded her of her niece. She just wondered what they might think of her comparatively ancient, thirty-something body. 

“Have you seen any ferals?” Sheridan asked. “We saw some droppings around the upper falls.”

Catherine shook her head, no. 

“You rode, you said? Then where’s your pony?” Emma scanned the bank. One simply didn’t see a mature male on the hoof, so to speak.

Charley Horse heard the loud splashes. He heard the female voices. He wanted to see more and pulled against his reins. However, he had his blinders and ittle slack. He could see little.

“There! There he is!” said Sheridan. In a flash, she was out of the water. The water streamed from her very female body as she emerged from the neck deep water. The water formed droplets in the neatly trimmed blonde brush that concealed her sex. 

“He’s really a big one!” said Emma joining her friend at the railing, shaking the water from her brown hair. 

Charley Horse could see the young women now. Both were fit and attractive. Their femininity was obvious and unmistakable. The women were as naked as he but none might doubt who commanded and who obeyed. He was very aware of their nudity and close proximity. Harnessed and hobbled, he was completely helpless. He had no idea of what they might do next. Apprehension growing, he looked urgently for Catherine for protection. 

Catherine saw the two women by her pony. She could sense Charley Horse’s escalating agitation and reluctantly left the water to join them. Ponies were known to kick. She was relieved that she had him safely hobbled.

“He’s cute! And he’s so huge!” marveled Sheridan. Mature males were rare in the years since the Revolution when women had finally discovered that a simple reduction in male numbers had effectively ended war and violent crime. Charley Horse was a truly exceptional specimen among that severely reduced number. His size alone was daunting. Emma picked up a stick. “Can you imagine a time when half the people walking on the street looked like this guy? No wonder women felt intimidated.”

“Charley Horse is huge,” Catherine agreed, then continued, “and we’ve got even larger males back at the stables. However, very few ordinary males were ever this large, though, and they never walked around with their male paraphernalia just hanging out there - ever.” Very few had much contact these days with a fully-grown male on the hoof, so to speak. 

“His skin’s so smooth,” Emma observed. The ponies in the stable were thoroughly depilated to facilitate hygiene. She inhaled his aroma – honest exertion and the special liniment with sun block and insect repellant. And something else related to his male gender. “They call those his privates?” she asked and pointed with a stick.

Charley’s anxiety increased. He shuddered and pulled away to the limited extent his tether allowed. Strangers were unpredictable and made him uncomfortable. He looked to Catherine for protection.

Catherine caught Emma’s eye and with a glance, warned her not to poke him. 

Emma dropped the stick and reached out to stroke his skin. “He has no hair on his pubes – silky as a baby’s bottom. Just touch him, Sheridan, if it’s okay with Catherine.”

“Go ahead. High Gate Stables maintains very high standards for grooming.” Catherine wondered if the two young women understood just how much meticulous care her Charley Horse required. 

Sheridan touched him, tentatively at first. Her curious fingers explored the ring that pierced his glans Like all the males in the stable, he had been circumcised to facilitate hygiene. She ran her carefully manicured finger down the length of his exposed sex and gently cupped his fat ball sack in her outstretched hand. Wickedly, she ran her finger back up the length of his sex, all the time watching his face. “I’ve heard they really like this.” 

Charley Horse bit hard on his bit. He was utterly confused. He was surrounded by naked female skin – bare butts and tummies, soft, ripe breasts topped by pink areolas and darker nipples, and the mysterious hidden place he could not name between naked female thighs. He had never been the beneficiary of any sort of sex education. However, he had powerful, uncontrollable urges he simply did not understand and could not fully control. 

Feelings of panic rose. He brayed his distress. His nudity did not bother him. He had always been naked. He had also had some experience with women. Women had reared him at the crèche. Women had broken him to his bit, bridle, and saddle. Women groomed him and rode him.

He remembered when his body changed, demonstrating his undeniable otherness. He had sprouted hair in all sorts of unexpected places. He had grown rapidly in height and weight. Within a short time, he was taller and heavier than any of the grooms and exercise girls and he kept on growing. His strength increased; his muscles enlarged and took new definition. He had seen other boys change before him but unable to speak, had been unable to question them. 

The trainers had added more and more weight to his training saddle. He had answered their challenge readily. He remembered the first time he had been bridled and saddled without any extra weights. Leah, the smallest exercise girl, clambered up on his back. He carried her proudly around the ring, like one of the fully-grown ponies.

He also remembered the new feelings that he could not name. He awoke to find his penis swollen and hard. He felt pleasure – intense pleasure - not pain – when he touched himself. He remembered the time when Caitlin groomed him and his body reacted. He was afraid but he knew he had done nothing on purpose. Caitlin had laughed – but hadn’t seemed angry with him. He felt betrayed by his body. She had touched him gently and the soft touch of her hand had felt so very good. She had smiled kindly and told him that he was Charley Horse now. Unable to talk, he could not ask any questions or share any feelings.

Later, alone in his stall, he had touched himself. Even with his vigorous training schedule and thorough grooming, he had many long hours alone. With enough touching, his penis spurted. It was different than pee and felt so good.

He remembered the night he awoke to a flashlight’s harsh glare to find Caitlin and Catherine standing over him. He started to stand. Standing, neither of the women reached his shoulder and he weighed more than the two of them together. When his eyes adjusted to the light he saw the electric prod in Caitlin’s hand. A touch of the prod could reduce a fully grown male to a urine-dribbling heap of twitching arms and legs, choking on his own vomit.

“Don’t move, Charley Horse,” Caitlin warned. Hastily, he lay back down. “Okay, Catherine. One more chance – truth or dare! Just tell me who you went out with last night.”

Catherine looked at Caitlin. “Dare!” she said, defiantly. Then she squatted next to Charley Horse’s supine form. “Don’t worry, Charley Horse, we won’t hurt you,” she reassured him quietly. Given the disparity in their sizes, her reassurance might have seemed almost ridiculous.

“Just tell me who you were with last night,” Caitlin repeated herself. “I could make you use your mouth?”

Catherine looked up at Caitlin and even in the darkness, her eyes flashed with defiance. “Dare!” she repeated.

“Okay, just jerk him off.”

Catherine steadied herself with one hand on Charley Horse’s belly and took his sex in her small hand. That night, she gave Charley Horse real comfort.

Today in the bright sunlight, Charley Horse closed his eyes and fought to calm himself. He did not know these women who seemed to swarm over him. Something of their female essence called forcefully to him and moved him deeply to his masculine core. Sun and exertion worked a subtle alchemy on female flesh, eliciting a delicate but enthralling scent, accented by the faint residua of enticing shampoo, sunscreen, and perfume. His poorly understood feelings roiled. 

His control totally overwhelmed, he groaned in misery. His sex engorged under Sheridan’s provocative touch. Without volition, his pelvis thrust rhythmically against her, trying to increase the delicious pressure.

“Do you want to have sex with me, really? Do you love me?” she asked laughing. “See Emma, he wants to have sex with me,” she said brightly to the others. “Lady, he’s as thick as my wrist! Well maybe not quite as thick – but almost.”

Emma remembered that enough manipulation might cause the creature to spew his mess. “Sheridan, just be careful! This might get a bit untidy,” she snorted, wrinkling up her nose in distaste. 

Sheridan pulled back her hand and jumped away. She had no desire to see the animal spurt his filth on her relatively clean body.

“I had a dog once who humped like that,” Emma offered. “Had him gelded.”

“Give my poor Charley Horse a break,” Catherine gathered up her pony’s reins. “He really can’t help himself.” She was truly fond of her pony. His diligent service had earned him at least a little bit of indulgence. She felt a delicious ache between her thighs, but the notion of intimate relations with livestock was primitive and repulsive.

“I think he’s disgusting,” ventured Emma.

“I think he’s kind of cute,” answered Sheridan.

“Would you like to ride him,” Catherine offered. She retrieved her crop from Charley Horse’s saddle, then took him to his knees. She removed his hobble and gathered up his reins in her fist.

“Great, I’ll try.” responded Sheridan. “I wish I had a camera.”

“Mount!” Catherine ordered. 

For a long two seconds, Charley Horse was confused. Catherine stood in front of him and not positioned to his left. She swatted his knee with her crop and his confusion vanished. He knew what was required. He went down on his right knee and planted his left foot. He bent his left knee at right angles. 

“Grab the bridle and step up on his left thigh,” Catherine instructed Sheridan. Sheridan grabbed his bridle and hesitated a long moment. Catherine shook her head. “Step up on his thigh with your left foot and swing your right leg over his saddle. Charley Horse won’t bite!” Sheridan lifted her left foot onto his left thigh and swung her right leg over Charley Horse’s saddle. Her bare bottom, still wet, settled into his saddle heavily. Her feet still sought the stirrups awkwardly, when Catherine ordered Charley Horse, “Up!”

Charley Horse rose quickly and Sheridan’s slippery wet bottom almost slid from the saddle, her feet not yet in the stirrups. To keep from falling, she threw herself forward and wrapped her arms around Charley Horse’s head. Her bare breasts pressed against him. “Don’t look at me, don’t look at me,” she called to the others, laughing at her own folly. She hung on fiercely.

Emma laughed aloud. Her dark head shook with merriment. “Better you than me,” she teased.

Catherine worried that the inexperienced girl might hurt herself. 

Charley Horse found himself smothered in wet, cold female flesh. Sheridan’s soft breasts pressed against his head. Her trim thighs straddled his back and her coarse bush scratched the back of his neck. Naked fear spiced Sheridan’s enticing female essence. Charley Horse turned his head and pressed his cheek into Sheridan’s soft breast, thoroughly overwhelmed. If he could turn his head just a bit further, he could take her succulent nipple in his mouth. 

Aware only of her danger of falling, Sheridan was oblivious to his presumption. 

Catherine, though, saw it all. She flicked her crop against Charley Horse’s exposed scrotum and he quickly found his manners

After what seemed an eternity, Sheridan’s feet found the stirrups. She disengaged slowly and carefully, planted her feet in the stirrups and now sat securely in the saddle. She grasped the reins in something like the appropriate grip. “Hey, Emma, look at me! His facial hair – his beard - tickles.” She touched her itching breast. 

Catherine released him.

“How do you make him go,” Sheridan asked.

“Just kick him!” Catherine answered

Sheridan snapped her bare heels against his flanks. Charley started forward at a walk. He had developed a certain fondness for inexperienced, undemanding riders. 

“I’m riding!” Sheridan called gleefully. “Emma, do you want a turn too. It’s really easy.” Elation quickly replaced her earlier alarm. She pulled on his reins and guided him to the left and to the right. She felt certain that she had really mastered the powerful animal. She wondered if she might make him run. She looked to Catherine.

“Sheridan, just be careful,” Catherine pleaded. A heavy rock crashed into her shoulder. She spun around in obvious pain. “Shit!” She winced with pain. 

“Run, you asshole, run!” a coarse male voice shouted.

“Free yourself, asshole!” yelled another. 

The women looked up. Two feral males had appeared suddenly out of nowhere. Filthy rags half-covered their unkempt bodies. Their odor was as disgusting. One wielded a sharpened stick as a spear. The other had thrown the rock at Catherine and gloated. The rock had almost knocked her from her feet. Her pain and fear were apparent in her cry and on her face. 

Ferals? Something Charley had not thought about for some time. Some women refused the government bonus and let their sons run free. They released them when they could hide them no longer. The ferals – males like him but living free with no harnesses, hobbled, whips, spurs, bits or bridles - stood their ground and taunted the women. 

Free yourself! Once escape had haunted his dreams and waking fantasies. Escape was something he had not thought about for a long time!

Suddenly, Charley realized that no one held his reins, really no one at all. He had no tether or hobble. This stupid blond-haired girl in his saddle could not stop him. For once in his new life, he was free. He seized his bit between his teeth and took off at a run. He sprinted toward the grinning ferals. He could be free – no more chains and whips. 

Sheridan shrieked. She bounced around in the saddle but hung on precariously. She didn’t know whether to hold on or try to slip off Charley Horse’s back. She was so high up. She wrapped her arms around Charlie’s head and hung on for dear life. She had no idea what do. Charley Horse ran, totally oblivious to her screaming.

Charley bit down on his bit and ran. Sheridan clung to his saddle. They neared the ferals. 

Emma watched in horror. Her mouth gaped open but she was unable to make a sound.

The feral, who had thrown the rock at Catherine waved and gave the stupid pony a thumbs up. The stupid cunt still clung to his saddle. A female captive would be a novelty. She could offer great entertainment while she lived and her death wouldn’t totally end her usefulness. 

Two other women stood naked and helpless. They might also add to the fun. He grabbed a heavy tree branch he might use as a club and nodded to the other. The ferals charged Catherine and Emma!

Charley Horse ran in the other direction and Sheridan hung on grimly. He negotiated the difficult ground with ease and continued at sprint. He had been trained for speed and endurance. No one gave chase. 

Catherine stood, stunned for a moment. She could do no more than cradle her injured shoulder and watch. The ferals came closer. Sheer terror mounted. She looked quickly to Emma. Emma was a terrified as she. Catherine looked at her Charley. “Charley!” she shrieked.

Charley was well accustomed to Catherine’s authoritative voice. His body was thoroughly trained to follow her directions even before his mind had fully processed her commands. He chuckled when the novice riders tried to duplicate her manner and only squeaked comically. However, he had never heard her utter a sound as she did now. He was reminded of the sounds that he heard on from the ponies on the gelding frame. Catherine was in danger - real danger. His Catherine needed him! 

He stopped and turned. He charged into the affray. The ferals brandished their crude weapons at the naked, unarmed women. 

Catherine and Emma backed away fearfully and looked about for something they might use to defend themselves. 

The ferals yelled and attacked. They looked half- starved though. Who fed them, Charley wondered? They looked filthy and smelled worse. Who saw to their grooming? A novel expression appeared on Charley Horse’s face – more than anger – rage. They had threatened his Catherine

Charley Horse caught up the feral who had thrown the rock at Catherine. His harness restrained his arms. He lowered his shoulder and ran him over, full tilt. Charley Horse outweighed the feral by half and the impact threw the savage forward. Utterly surprised, the feral hit the ground hard. Charley Horse stumbled but kept his feet and juddered to an unsteady stop.

Finally, Emma found her voice. “Sheridan!” she screamed.

Sheridan took the welcomed opportunity to slide from the saddle. She hit the ground and fell, heavily. She stood shakily and backed away.

The feral rose unsteadily to his hands and knees. Charley Horse kicked him hard with his iron shod hoof and he fell again. The fighting skills that had served Charley’s conflicts in the stables, helped him here.

The second feral hefted his makeshift spear and ran toward Sheridan. Catherine and Emma were too far away to do anything. Charley Horse ran to put himself between Sheridan and her attacker. The feral did not see him. Charley ran into the spear shaft and spun the feral around. 

The feral staggered but quickly regained his footing. He saw that he now faced three women and a large angered pony alone. His companion was unconscious and no help. He recalculated the odds in a flash, turned, and ran off with typical male courage

“Kneel!” Catherine barked, finally recovering her usual authority and Charley Horse dropped to his knees. His strong chest rose and fell as he tried to regain his breath. Blood dripped from the wound in his flank. “Someone get Charley Horse.” The pain in her shoulder was throbbed.

Emma quickly grabbed Charley Horse’s reins. She gripped them tightly. “You’re a good pony, Charley,” she asked as much as asserted. 

Charley watched Catherine intently. Her smile through her obvious pain, calmed Charley’s roiled feelings. Charley feared her disapproval more than he feared her crop or spurs. 

Still naked, Sheridan squatted beside the downed feral. He began to stir. “Has anyone got a knife? Any kind of weapon?” she asked, searching the ground to her left and right.

“Our stuff’s all at the top of the falls,” Emma said.

“I’ve got a pocketknife somewhere in my backpack,” Catherine offered. Her painful shoulder still throbbed. She started toward the pool where her backpack lay with her clothes. 

The feral male moaned and began to rise, slowly and unsteadily. He struggled weakly to his hands and knees again and paused. He shook his head and started to stand. 

Anxiously, Sheridan looked quickly to Catherine, and then at the backpack. Too far away. She grabbed a fist-sized rock and hit the side of the feral’s head. She hit him again hard and he collapsed back to the ground. She hit him two more times and bloody fluid ran from his nose and ear. “Don’t bother!”

Breathing heavily, Charley winced when Sheridan struck. Blood dribbled from his wound. The pain had yet to break through his adrenalin rush. 

Hands on hips, Emma took a step back and watched. She held his reins only loosely but Charley held his position. 

Sheridan stood with the bloody rock still in her hand. She looked down and studied her victim. She rolled him onto his back with her foot. Without resistance, he flopped limply over supine. Sheridan took careful aim and soccer-kicked his lolling head. The side of her foot lifted his entire body from the ground to the waist and when he landed, his neck was bent at an unnatural angle. She straddled his unmoving form and looked down. “Someone had better call the rangers.”

Catherine retrieved his hobble and came to Charley’s side. She took his reins from Emma. Kneeling, Charley still reached Catherine’s chest. “Charley, you’re a good boy,” she enthused and quickly replaced his hobble. Once he was secured, she stroked his cheek fondly and pressed his head against her bare breast. 

“We’re going to find our clothes.” Sheridan announced. She and Emma made the steep climb to the top of the upper falls. 

Charley’s breathing calmed but pain was evident on his face. Catherine inspected his wound. He would definitely need some attention. She feared for a moment that she might have to walk him back to the stable but he appeared sound enough to carry her. “Stay, Charley. I’ll be right back.”

Charley followed her with his eyes. He basked in Catherine’s favor and had no desire to flee. Hobbled, he would be unable to go very far anyway. He was quite content to watch her retrieve her clothing and dress. He tried with no success to remember when last he had worn clothes. She returned with his saddle. The way she carried it showed that her shoulder still hurt. He hoped that she might also find an uneaten apple for her Charley Horse.


End file.
